


Role Models

by MisconductandMimosas



Series: Role Models [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Junior Hockey, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisconductandMimosas/pseuds/MisconductandMimosas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Kent both missed the draft, albeit for completely different reasons</p>
<p>-or-</p>
<p>“For your ThrowBack Thursday of the week, we sat down with two of the NHL’s finest, Trotsy of the Aces and McLeed of the Rangers to talk their record-breaking Memorial Cup win as well as former juniors star and Zimmermann liney- Kent-“ Holster looked at the magazine article and blinked- “Parson,” he said at a lower volume. “Kent Parson? I forgot about that guy. How did they even find him?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Role Models

**——————**

**2009 - Montreal**

**——————**

 

Jack’s room was empty. Mostly empty. Between billets and camps, it’s not as though he spent much time in the room since he was ten or eleven. Still, it felt like home, he was pretty sure. He wished it was _more_ though. The scent of his blankets and whatever his mother had made for dinner would have to do for now. He guessed he would need to find an apartment in Vegas soon enough. Or - _no, it’s going to be Vegas- has to be_ , he told himself. 

 

“You know, I’m proud of you, Jack.” He looked at the family picture that was on his nightstand- his father and mother smiling with him after the Memorial Cup win. His mother must have framed it within the past few weeks. The picture of his father wasn’t talking to him though- that was the real thing. He glanced over at the doorway and managed a tired smile at her dad.

 

“Papa…”

 

“Jack?” The concerned look on his father’s face was the last thing Jack wanted to see right now. Well, one of the last things but considering that Kent was in the states with his brother and sister, this was high up there.

 

He shook his head. Not now. What would be a better time? Hopefully never. ‘Never’ sounded good. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

 

“Your mother wants to go out to dinner with a few of the family- okay?” His father didn’t push. He never pushed. Not on anything. It was a relief as much as it was a disappointment. 

 

“Sure, I’ll be right there. I just need to unpack.” He looked at his bag, keeping his gaze on it for a bit too long. 

 

——————

 

_“Jack? Jack, sweetheart, can you hear me?”_

 

_“Papa? Maman?”_

 

_“Tu vas bien, Jack.”_

 

**——————**

**A few hundred miles away**

**——————**

 

“You’re going to get drafted.”

 

“Don’t jinx it!”

 

“Jinx what? Kenny, you’re going to be in the NHL.”

 

“Richie, god.”

 

“I know. I know.”

 

“ _Richie_.”

 

“Head between your knees, little brother. You’re going to be fine.”

 

“Whoa.”

 

“Come on, Meg wants to go out to dinner. And I want to be able to tease you about ordering chicken tenders.”

 

“It’s the off-season. I don’t have to be on a nutritional plan yet.”

 

“Does that mean I can tell the internet all about it?”

 

“Like you know how to use the internet.”

 

“Better work on those chirps, kid. I’m sure the NHL expects better.”

 

Kent looked up from his phone and frowned at Richie. “My chirps are fine.”

 

“Jack?” Richie asked, nodding towards Kent’s phone. 

 

“Nah, I think he’s busy with family stuff.” Kent shrugged it off. He knew Rich didn’t believe him but he couldn’t help that. He avoided his brother’s gaze and shoved his phone back into his jeans. “Are we meeting Meg there?”

 

“Yeah, you coming to mine afterwards or crashing with her?”

 

“Umm? I don’t know yet.”

 

“Take your own car then. I’ve got an early morning so I don’t know how late I’ll be.”

 

“Your brother is getting _drafted_ soon, Richard,” Kent needled.

 

“Oh yeah, I’ll tell that to my shift manager. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

 

——————

 

“Kent? Kid, can you hear me?” 

 

Kent heard his brother’s voice somewhere over him but he couldn’t quite open his eyes to see him. “Richie…” He croaked out. 

 

“Head between your knees, Kenny. You’re going to be fine.”

 

“Richie,” Kent tried again. He opened his eyes enough to see beige and - a blurred body- Richie? Meg? Hospital. He was in a hospital.

 

“I know, I know,” Richie said quietly, rubbing his head over the one part of Kent’s head that wasn’t bruised. Kent whimpered and he quickly moved his hand away. Kent looked even more heartbroken about that. He kept trying to focus his eyes on his brother and sister but he couldn’t make them work properly.

 

“It’s okay, kid.”

 

——————

 

“They said it’s a concussion.”

 

“What’s that mean though?” Kent had heard the word thrown around like it could be everything or nothing. He didn’t currently have a team right now. There were no NHL doctors to explain it to him in hockey terms.

 

“It’s an upper body injury,” Richie joked gently. Kent’s smile was painful. Richie hated it. He wished Meg were still with him but she had taken too much time off of work already.

 

“So now what?”

 

“There’s no guarantee for anything.” Richie looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. Kent grabbed his brother’s hand and squeezed. “I’ve been- there have been so many calls, Kenny. I haven’t let anyone in. Your agent- Maria- she’s been outside. Meg is worried out of her mind.” There was the unspoken _I wish Mom and Dad were here_ between them. 

 

“Now what, Richie?” Kent asked again.

 

“Now we see how your concussion goes. Regardless of whether you still want to be in the draft.”

 

“Oh.” Kent squeezed Richie’s hand. That was…something.

 

“You can if you want to. Everyone knows how skilled you are, Kenny. It’s the head injury that’s the issue now. They’re not sure of the extent. Concussions are- well, you know.. Your bones should heal up just fine but-“ Richie stopped himself. “Just think about it, okay? I’ll come back in the morning.”

 

“Good, you should shower. Stinking up my room. I’m going to get an infection.” Kent’s smile looked like it physically pained him.

 

“That’s my brother,” Richie murmured, kissing the top of Kent’s head. “I’ll see you in the morning. You can call me if you need me.” Kent didn’t want to say that he could barely focus on Richie- he definitely wouldn’t be able to dial a phone. Even if he was able to, it wouldn’t be Richie who he was calling. But Richie hadn’t said anything about Jack. Not a word.

 

“Drive safe,” he whispered. 

 

“Kenny,” Richie started but then shook his head. “I will, I promise.”

 

——————

 

“No.”

 

“What?”

 

“No, I’m done.”

 

“Kenny…” Richie looked terrified. Kent could relate. “Are you sure? You don’t have to decide now. You could see how rehab goes-“

 

“And then what? Play every game the rest of my life trying not to get a concussion? What would even be the odds of that?” Kent tried not to sound bitter but he couldn’t help it. _Hockey._ Just. One idiot decided to run a red light and it ruined his life. Or- what could have been his life. 

 

Richie sighed. “Not good odds, I wouldn’t think.”

 

“It’s not worth it, Richie. It’s not. I don’t want to start with a half deck of cards.” Kent took a deep breath, he knew he had tears on his face and he wiped at his cheeks with the front of his hands, gingerly looking out for his IVs. “It’s not- I don’t know- I love hockey-“

 

“I know you do, Kenny.”

 

“I just-“ Kent brought both hands up to his face and took some more deep breaths. “I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t have to decide now,” Richie reminded him.

 

“This is the smart decision though. It is. Right? You know it is. How many studies are coming out now about concussions? And that’s in high schoolers too? It’s not worth it.” Kent almost believed himself when he ended that strongly.

 

“Oh, thank god.” Richie ran his hand over his face and scooted his chair closer to his little brother’s bed.

 

“Richie?”

 

“I know it’s not worth it but I wasn’t sure that you did. I just- I can’t lose you, Kent. Meg and I would kill one another, you know that.” Kent thought about the time he spent with his brother and sister- the only family he had left. Meg’s kids too- his nieces and nephew. He couldn’t spend the next years in a dark, quiet room whenever he wasn’t playing hockey. 

 

“I’m not giving up, Richie.”

 

“You just said-“

 

“I don’t mean about hockey- I mean- I’m not-“

 

“I know,” Richie caught on quickly and didn’t make him finish his sentence. “I’m so proud of you. You know Meg and I are with you every step of the way. Aren’t you glad you kept up your grades now?” Kent’s bark of laughter caused the room to burst into white spots.

 

Kent pressed his palms against his closed eyes and leaned back against the stiff hospital pillows. “Man…everyone is going to flip. Jack’s gonna flip.” 

 

Maybe if Kent wasn’t concussed, he would have noticed that Richie froze.

 

“Kent…”

 

“Rich?”

 

His brother sighed and stood up out of the hospital room chair. “It’s about Jack.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**——————**

**2014 - Samwell University**

**——————**

 

“This week in Jack Zimmermann news-“

 

The groans of his teammates came from all corners of the Haus but Holster could not be deterred, especially not with Ransom cheering him on. 

 

“Zimmermann Junior Secrets? We talked to three of Zimmerman’s former teammates who were along with him for their team’s winning Memorial Cup Run.” More cheering, this time from Ransom and Shitty. 

 

“For your ThrowBack Thursday of the week, we sat down with two of the NHL’s finest, Trotsy of the Aces and McLeed of the Rangers to talk their record-breaking Memorial Cup win as well as former juniors star and Zimmermann liney- Kent-“ Holster looked at the magazine article and blinked- “Parson,” he said at a lower volume. “Kent Parson? I forgot about that guy. How did they even find him?”

 

Ransom grabbed the magazine from him. “Wow. I haven’t heard about him since his accident. Yeah without him, that run would have been-“

 

Shitty coughed and they both looked up at him. They hadn’t realized they were still talking out loud. “Sorry, Jack,” Holster winced. Jack’s eyes were still trained on the magazine. He reached out for it and Ransom handed it over without any argument. 

 

It was open to the page of the interview, with three pictures of the subjects placed vertically along the side of the article. Trotsy and McLeed’s photographs were just their roster shots - the same ones that show up on the television before each game. Kent’s photo wasn’t that- it wasn’t his juniors picture or the dumb pictures they had all the draftees take at the combine. It had to have been a recent shot and he clearly didn’t know that agreeing to the interview was going to include them taking his picture.

 

Kent had been off the NHL radar since the same time that Jack had fallen off of it- then Jack had come back on after a year- Kent hadn’t. 

 

He had asked eventually - their teammates, his parents- no one knew where Kent Parson had disappeared to- now he was staring at Jack- at the camera- with glasses that Jack had never seen before and a bashful, nervous smile. His hair looked as though he had run his fingers through it no less than six times in order to get it to stay but the cowlick that couldn’t be tamed still had his blonde hair leaning to one side. The pale blue button-down shirt looked wrinkled and there wasn’t even an attempt of tucking it into his jeans.

 

 Had Kent even known he was going to be interviewed and photographed or had they ambushed him? Jack’s fingers curled around the magazine but before he could do any damage, Shitty plucked it out of his hands. Jack glanced up and saw that whichever teammates had been in the room had emptied out to different parts of the Haus. 

 

“Kent Parson,” Shitty read aloud, “The former projected 2nd overall pick who now resides in Providence was a trick to track down for this piece but he graciously agreed to the interview. How could he not? He and Jack Zimmermann were as thick as thieves during their two years in juniors and with Zimmermann making an NHL decision within the next year, Parson might be the only person outside of Bad Bob who could tell us what is going on in Zimmerman’s head. Parson’s life now, however, is far from what he imagined at age 18 and not remotely close to Zimmermann’s future in the NHL. 

 

With a degree in non-profit management being put to use at a local institution (which we couldn’t get out of him), Parson’s expertise on the ice is only put to use on Saturday mornings, when he helps out with youth skating lessons and mite hockey at one of Providence’s public rinks. While he was tight-lipped about any personal Jack Zimmermann stories, he did tell us about how he and his former linemate celebrated their Memorial Cup win- by skipping school and sleeping in. Unsurprising given that grueling final series but still, we were still hoping for a bit more from excitement from the players who were, at the time, projected to go 1st and 2nd overall, respectively. 

 

We couldn’t get anything out of Kent about his accident and subsequent disappearance before the draft. He only joked saying, “My brother called it an upper body injury so I’ll take a leaf out of the NHL’s book and just give you that. I didn't want to spend my life chasing some cup that healthy guys don’t even get more than half of the time.” Wise words from someone so young- especially given the scrutiny that the league has come under in recent years regarding player injuries. As for Zimmermann’s future in the NHL, Parson only had this to say: “Jack’s one of the greats- he was always going to be- anyone with eyes can see that. Whatever team he picks is going to have the cup within five years,” Shitty finished and took a deep breath. “That was…something else. Raised expectations for you a bit at the end there, didn’t he?”

 

“That’s…Kenny.” Jack shrugged helplessly. Setting expectations and then clearing them had always been a favorite of Kent’s. The article was- he took it back from Shitty and reread it. 

 

Media training must have really stuck with Kent. Jack could tell that he must have been pestered about the Memorial Cup win but refused to give almost anything up. His injury especially- he wasn’t budging on- Jack still wasn’t sure what had happened to Kenny. As far as Jack knew, only Kent’s doctor, agent, and family knew the extent of the damage. One moment, Kent and Jack were getting ready for the draft and then the next minute- they weren’t. Last he heard - Kent was in rehab too- but certainly not the same kind of rehab Jack had been put into. His last memory of Kent wasn’t the kiss he had given him, shyer than Jack ever remembered Kenny’s kisses being, but the text he had sent Jack right before it had all gone to hell. 

 

_‘We’re going to do this, Zimms.”_

 

Jack exhaled and tightened his grip on the magazine again. He didn’t want to put it down on the table. The Haus kitchen had become marginally cleaner since Bitty had taken to visiting it nearly every day but after a team of hockey players ravaged a trio of pies, all bets were off. There were crumbs, bits of apples, and dirty forks covering the beaten table. But also…he just didn’t want to put the magazine down. 

 

Shitty tapped the page with the interview on it. “You know, he only lives in Providence. That’s what- 45 minute drive? An hour tops?”

 

“Shits…”

 

He held up both of his hands. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop, Jack.” He didn’t break eye contact first. He never did- Jack always handled that himself. 

 

Jack stayed quiet- his eyes trained on the picture of Kent. It had been taken in a rink- they must have caught him after one of the mite practices. He wondered how long Kent had been helping to coach. Did he know that Jack had coached peewee? He clearly knew Jack was getting ready for the NHL so he wasn’t that out of touch.

 

"You were friends, right?" Shitty asked, clearly expecting Jack to elaborate. Well, no, Shitty knew Jack well enough by now that he knew he had to lead his friend in certain conversations.

 

"Friends, yeah," Jack repeated. Had they been friends? They had been something. 

 

"Then go see him,” Shitty said with a shrug- as though it was just that simple.

 

"He had an accident-" 

 

"I know, Jack. We all know,” Shitty snorted. “Bitty probably even knows about the car accident.”

 

“Bitty didn’t even know who my dad was,” Jack pointed out. He took a breath and looked at the picture again. Kent looked…happy. ”I didn't talk to him, Shitty. Not after my rehab or his. I don't even know if he'll want to see me." 

 

"He sounds fine in the article." 

 

Jack voiced his earlier thought. ”Media training is hard to shake."

 

“I’d think about, Jack. You were on a team with this guy for two years and the first thing he does when he comes out of hiding is says something nice about you.”

 

“They ambushed him,” Jack said bitterly. “They shouldn’t have gone looking. He wanted to be left alone.” He felt angry in a way he hadn’t been since someone on an opposing juniors team had illegally checked Kent into the boards. That same protectiveness was rearing its head some five, six years later.

 

“You and I both know the media doesn’t work like that, Jack,” Shitty said slowly, giving his captain a concerned once-over. “Haven’t you already had a few reporters following you around on campus?”

 

“That’s different- that’s me.”

 

“So?”

 

“I asked to be put back into all of this. Kenny didn’t. They had no right.” Shitty’s eyebrows raised high at ‘Kenny.’

 

Jack groaned. He used the hand not holding onto the magazine ran through his hair. He took one more glance at the picture. Kent was smiling. ”You think Lardo needs her car on Saturday?" Jack asked quietly.

 

"I'll ask if she's up for a road trip."

 

He looked up and Shitty tried to judge where the expression landed on the Jack Zimmermann-terror-scale. ”What? Shits- no."

 

"It doesn't tell you which rink, Jack. Morning skate lessons only last so long. We’ll get an early start and conquer the rinks of Providence." He let Jack think it over in favor of eyeing the empty pie plates. Bitty frowned against licking them clean but that apple maple had been something else. Finally, after a near minute of deliberation, Jack spoke up.

 

"Not the team- you and Lardo. No one else."

 

"Roger that. Bright and early on Saturday morning. Cancel your plans.”

 

“Maybe Holster could do some checking practice with Bitty,” Jack mused. 

 

“Let the poor kid have a weekend off, Jack."

 

 

——————

 

“How many rinks are there in the Providence area? I feel like we’ve been to all of them,” Shitty scrolled through the list he made on his phone. They were headed into the Providence Memorial Rink. Or at least, Jack was already at the boards. He and Lardo were working on it.

 

“We’ve hit three. Chill, bro.” Lardo handed him a cold pretzel from the concession stand.

 

“There’s six if we’re not including the Falconers’ rink and their practice facility.” He squinted at his list and turned the contrast up on his phone.

 

“Are we not including them?” She asked. 

 

“If Parson managed to hide for this long, I don’t think he was doing it right under the nose of a professional hockey team, right?”

 

“Mmm, I don’t know, hockey players aren’t too bright,” Lardo teased. 

 

“Rans has a 4.0 and I’m going to tell him that you said that,” Shitty told her. He looked around the rink. It smelled like every rink he had ever been in when he was a kid but the attached arcade was something new. "This can't be it- they had to have been wrong. This is more of like- an entertainment cen-" Lardo tugged on his hand and Shitty immediately stopped talking. 

 

He didn't make a noise or look at Lardo. Shitty didn’t want to draw attention to their little trio. The rink was full of kids coming and going to practice and the arcade. The less people who saw Jack like this- the better. He was a few feet in front of them, just stopped in the middle of the walkway and staring a little further up the boards at someone who, without a doubt, was Kent Parson. 

 

“That’s him.” Shitty whispered. 

 

Jack let loose a few words in French that Shitty had only ever heard on the ice. 

 

“Didn’t think this one through, huh brah?” Shitty muttered and looked over at Lardo just in time to get dead-arm'd. “Ow! Sorry! I’m just saying- long drive, a few rinks, not to mention five years-“

 

“Shits, I will beat you up right here and now in front of all of these children,” Lardo swore. "Now isn't the time to attempt to lighten the mood.”

 

Jack didn’t seem to hear any of it anyway. He was too focused on Kent Parson. 

 

The guy certainly looked like his photograph. Shitty tried to think back when he was in high school and watching juniors highlights of Jack and Kent. He wouldn't have pegged that Kent Parson for the one in front of him but then again, he didn't know the guy. Not that the media knew either of them. Back then, no one suspected Jack's issues or that Kent, a kid who had an NHL career lined up, which turn down attempting a full rehabilitation stint for even the remote chance of getting back on the ice again. 

 

"Jack, come on, go walk over," Lardo said gently. "Shits and I will be right there by the bleachers if you need us."

 

Jack’s shoulders stiffened. Shitty wasn’t sure if he was insulted or worried that Jack had forgotten he and Lardo were there with him. Then he looked at Kent Parson and realized what was happening.

 

Shitty could almost see Jack regretting bringing them there. It was more than Jack had wanted to share with his teammates or explain.

 

Former projected 2nd overall pick Kent Parson was being flirted with in broad daylight. Not hiding, not brushing the guy off or- was he blushing? Shitty could see his cheeks tinged pink. Maybe it was the cold air circulating the rink. Shitty followed Lardo obediently over to the bleachers.

 

——————

 

Jack didn’t want to move. He’d have to- sooner or later- before Kent saw him just staring and listening. 

 

"We're still on for Monday night, right?" The guy at Kent’s side asked.

 

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it." And he did seem genuinely excited about the date. Jack recognized the look, it was a bit of flirtatiousness mixed with nerves. 

 

"Me too." 

 

"Besides, I don't think anything could be as terrible as our first date,” Kent mused. He scratched the back of his head.

 

The guy winced. "The fire alarm going off in the restaurant was...not ideal." 

 

"Especially in the chilly Massachusetts fall?" Kent teased. "I think we made it through pretty well together. I wasn't complaining,” he said sincerely.

 

"No, me neither," the guy said thoughtfully, giving Kent a sweet smile. Jack’s fingers curled into his palm and he stuck his hands in his pocket. 

 

"Uncle Geoff!" The little boy at their feet tugged at his uncle's pants. "Help?" He asked, balancing himself on his uncle's leg while lifting up the skate on his foot to show a knot of jumbled laces.

 

"Oh, buddy," Geoff laughed. He picked up his nephew, leaving the toddler's skate-clad feet dangling dangerously close to his ribs. "I'm going to get this guy to the lockers and then home. I'll talk to you this weekend, Kent."

 

"Sounds great, Geoff. I'll see you next Saturday, little man." Kent held out his hand for a high five, which his student eagerly returned. He laughed and then turned around and the smile immediately fell off his face.

 

"Kenny...hi..." Jack said weakly, wishing he hadn’t been caught. 

 

Kent blinked a few times and a tentative, forced smile came back onto his face. Jack hated that smile. He felt sick. He shouldn’t have come like this. 

 

"Jack…hi?”

 

"Hi,"Jack said again, feeling stupid.

 

"How did you-

 

"The article," Jack said quickly.

 

"Oh- right- the interview." Kent looked annoyed for a half second. "That came out? I asked them not to print the name of the rink."

 

"They didn't- I had help. My teammates and I- this is the fourth one we've hit this morning."

 

Kent's eyes widened. "The fourth rink? Jack- is everything okay? Are your parents -"

 

"No, everything is fine, Kenny. I just...wanted to see you, I guess." 

 

There was no good or right way for Jack to stand in the middle of a public hockey rink on a Saturday morning more than five years after they had last seen one another and say that he missed Kent and wanted him to be doing well and wanted to know everything he had missed in Kent's life for the past 2,000 and some odd days. Granted, if there was a place they would do that, Jack had to admit that the conversation taking place in a hockey rink- like most other things in their relationship had- would be appropriate.

 

"Jack, I..." Kent leaned forward, looking around the rink. The two closest people were Lardo and Shitty on the rusty parent bleachers, trying their best not to look like they were even remotely interested in what was happening. "I didn't say anything- I wouldn't. If that's what you're worried about-" Kent looked hurt and a little furious at the idea that Jack would come all the way to Providence to remind him that Jack was still so very far in the closet. 

 

Jack's stomach turned again. That was the last thing he wanted Kent to think. Quickly and breathlessly, he assured Kent that that wasn't the case in the least. "No, god, Kenny, I know- you'd never-"

 

"Cause- I'm out now but I know you're- that's a lot- I would never- I know you'd get tons of-"

 

"Kenny!" Jack said sharply. "That's not what this is about, I swear.

 

"Oh." Kent stood up straight again, looking even more confused. "Then..."

 

"You- the article. I just wanted to see you. And thank you."

 

There was that confused smile again. Jack wanted to shake Kent until he gave him a real, genuine smile like he remembered. "There's nothing to thank, Jack. You're going to do great in the show.”

 

Jack remembered that confidence too well. Whether it was being directed at him or not, Kent’s comments always made him feel like he could do anything.

 

“Thanks, Kenny.” Jack’s smile came easy. “I-“

 

“MISTER KENT!” A little girl yelled and tumbled into Kent’s legs. 

 

“Hey, Nancy-pants,” Kent said easily, picking her up and putting her back upright onto her skates. “You all ready to go?”

 

“Yes, please!” The excited statement wasn’t hindered at all but the girl’s missing two front teeth. 

 

“Skating without teeth already. She’s going to make a great hockey player,” Jack said warmly. 

 

Now Kent looked unsure when he remembered Jack was still there. “Sorry- I’ve got another-“

 

“A class, no, I know. It’s totally okay,” Jack assured him. “I mean, I knew that when we came to the rinks.”

 

“Right. Okay.” Kent leaned down and tightened his skates. “Go on, Nancy, onto the ice. William and Jessica are already having fun. I’ll be there in a minute.” The little girl obeyed and toddled over to the break in the boards.

 

"Can I...can I come see you again?" Jack asked eagerly.

 

"Can Jack Zimmerman show up at a hockey rink? No, I'm sure my students would hate that," Kent with a warm sarcasm. "You can come back whenever you want, Zimms.” He still looked confused as to why Jack would want to see him again.

 

_Zimms_. 

 

“Here, I’ll give you my number so next time you don’t interrupt the kid skate, how about that?” He teased. This was easy, sort of. Jack could handle Kent teasing him. That was familiar territory.  

 

“I’ll…text you,” Jack said lamely, watching Kent put his number into Jack’s phone. He handed it back to Jack without their fingers touching. Jack tried not to be disappointed. 

 

"Sure, you can text me anytime, Jack." A worried Kent was better than an angry Kent, Jack supposed, but not by much. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about with Jack. Well, not besides the usual. Definitely not like there was when they were in juniors at least. Instead of climbing over the boards like Jack was expecting, Kent walked down to the break and stepped through the opening onto the ice, giving Jack another quick, uncertain smile before slowly skating after his students. 

 

Jack stood there for a few minutes until someone touched his elbow.

 

“Jack? You okay?” Lardo asked quietly. 

 

Jack tried not to act as though he had forgotten about Lardo and Shitty. 

 

“Come on,” Shitty said graciously. “I want to get tacos before we head back. It’s past lunch.”

 

They walked out of the rink in silence. It wasn’t until they turned the corner to the far parking lot that Lardo asked quietly, “So, how is he?”

 

It took Jack a few seconds to answer. Shitty was honestly surprised that it didn’t take longer. ”He's good. Healthy enough to skate a bit. He’s got a boyfriend, I think," Jack said idly, distracted, not looking at either of them, but just staring ahead at the car. 

 

"That's good, isn't it, Zimms?" Shits asked slowly, exchanging a glance with Lardo.  

 

“Yeah…I think so, yeah.” 

 

“Good,” Shitty allowed. “Well, it’s pretty hard to have a boyfriend in the NHL, I hear. Glad to see he's doing well for himself then."

 

“Yeah…yeah…”

 

——————

 

“Do you still watch hockey.” Is the first text Jack sent out to Kent. He wanted to take it back immediately. Instead, he quickly followed it up with some context. “Only because McLeed is still trying to nail his spin and it’s been years. I’m not sure he’s ever going to get it.” And then after that. “It was in tonight’s Aces’ highlights.”

 

“Sometimes I watch hockey.” Was the response that Jack got a few minutes later. “It’s difficult to explain over text message but I try to keep up. It’s hard not to when I have classes full of students who want to talk all about recent games.”

 

From Jack: I think that’s the only reason Bitty started watching the games with us too.

 

From Kent: Bitty?

 

From Jack: Bittle. One of our forwards. Used to be a figure-skater. He’s short but he’s got a lot of speed.

 

From Kent: Seriously? He's small and you guys call him Bitty?

 

From Jack: We also have a guy called Shitty. He came with me- last week. The one with the mustache.

 

From Kent: And I thought juniors was weird. College seems way weirder.

 

From Jack: It definitely is.

 

——————

 

From Jack: We’re going to New Jersey this weekend. Falling asleep on roadies is just as dangerous as it was in juniors.

 

From Kent: I think that’s going to be the case in any level of hockey.

 

——————

 

From Kent: Heard about the BU loss. Sucks.

 

From Jack: We’ll get them next time. 

 

From Jack: Thanks.

 

——————

 

From Jack: Are you teaching again this weekend?

 

From Kent: Yep. Same time. Same place.

 

From Jack: Can I come?

 

From Kent: Bring your skates so I can put you to work.

 

——————

 

“Mister Kent? I think that’s Jack Zimmermann.” One of Kent’s students whispered loudly, tugging on his coach’s sleeve.

 

“Is it?” Kent smirked but didn’t look away from where he was tying the laces of one of the seven year old students. “Certainly looks like him. Who can really tell?”

 

“It is, Mister Kent! Remember? From the Faber last year.” Jack straightened up at that. 

 

He had been to Faber? He had taken his students? Kent grimaced and refused to make eye contact with Jack. They had seen Jack? “That’s right, for the Princeton game. Good memory, William.”

 

“You were-” Jack started, curious. He stopped himself from asking further, at least, until William skated away.

 

“I was-“ Kent shrugged. “The kids had been doing really well and someone knew somebody else who let us take them all up there to see a game.”

 

“You didn’t…say anything to me.”

 

“You were playing a hockey game,” Kent reminded him.

 

“But afterwards?” Jack kept his voice steady. He wasn’t angry- he wasn’t- and he didn’t want to give Kent the indication that he was angry. He was just…curious. Kent had been in the same building as him and he hadn’t known.

 

Giving a wry smile to the rink, Kent shrugged again. His words were careful. ”You looked happy." 

 

"And that wasn't an indication to say hello." It was and wasn't a question. Jack kept his voice low and his tone calm.

 

Kent matched him. ”I thought I saw you happy before and I was wrong- You didn't need a ghost coming back-" 

 

"But you could have-" 

 

Eyeing the ice, Kent tracked his students. They were far enough away that they couldn’t hear him but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk. He didn’t want to get into this now but he also didn’t want to leave it as it was. ”You can't put this all on me, Jack. I was in the hospital and so were you. By the time my head stopped spinning enough to call you, the number had been disconnected." 

 

"You had connections- my parents-" 

 

Kent finally looked at him, bewildered. ”You’re serious? You know Bob and Alicia, Jack- they protect you at all costs. If you had wanted to see me, they would have dragged my wheelchair up the coast to you."

 

"That's-" _Not wrong_ , Jack didn’t have to finish.

 

"Are you angry you didn't see me or see you just angry that I didn't try hard enough before hitting a wall and moving on?"

 

"Kent-" 

 

"I can take a hint, Jack- I can take hints from life and from you." Kent took a deep breath. "I understand that you needed to get better and you didn't to do it with me but that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt, okay?”

 

“…Okay.” Jack nodded. He leaned back against the boards, giving Kent even more space. “You’re right, Kenny. For the record. You’re right. I was angry and embarrassed and I needed time and space.”

 

Kent nodded and let out a sigh. He looked back out at his students, watching as they all chased around the same puck with no formed lines. “Our therapists would probably have a really good dinner together.”

 

"Are you okay with a ghost coming back into your life now?” Jack asked quietly. He didn't want to leave Kent again now that he had found him but he would if Kent asked. It would suck- he’d…probably need to up his sessions but if Kent thought it would be for the best-

 

“I’ve got two more classes. You can stay but I’m putting you to work. Then we’ll talk, okay?” 

 

Jack nodded. Before he would audibly agree, one of the smaller students, almost overwhelmed by his goalie pads, hit the boards and tried to lift himself up over it. He didn’t want to hop over it but he did get high enough to peek at Jack. Kent burst out laughing. Jack wanted it to keep going forever. Maybe he’d call his therapist anyway.

 

"Coach P, is that Jack Zimmermann?" 

 

"That's certainly what he's been telling people." Kent smirked at Jack as the tiny goalie stared at him in awe. “How about you get down and find your glove, buddy. I’ll be there in a minute. You did bring skates, right?” He asked Jack. 

 

“I- in the car,” he admitted.

 

“Of course,” Kent teased. “All right, go get them but I wasn’t lying- I’m putting you to work.”

 

It was only after the practice- after Kent assigned Jack the duty of linesman during a chaotic scrimmage between six year olds - that Jack finally got a response.

 

Kent helped the little ones over the step and out of the rink. ”To answer your question,” he said without looking up at Jack. “I don't know." He lightly tapped the helmet of the last kid out of the rink. “I’ve thought about it- being friends again-  but- we’re different, you know? Can we even-“ Kent sighed, frustrated. “We’d need to talk. Have real conversations. It can’t be like last time, Jack. I won’t be the person who-“

 

“Kenny, it wasn’t you,” Jack said earnestly. “I blamed you for a lot of stuff that wasn't your fault. I was- terrified."

 

"A closeted teenager about to make the NHL was terrified? Never heard that one before," Kent said dryly, but not meanly. His expression softened. "I wasn't exactly the epitome of maturity back then either Jack. That's why I didn't want to fuck anything up with you again. I thought that...if I said hi to you at Faber, you’d…” Kent let his sentence stand, not sure how to end it. Jack stepped in for him.

 

"You thought I'd spiral again,” he said quietly.

 

Kent looked uncomfortable at the bluntness. ”Can you blame me, Jack?"

 

"That wasn't your fault, Kenny." Jack wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. Maybe both of them. He mostly just wanted Kent to look at him again.

 

"Jack, come on. It's not just hockey anxiety you had,” he muttered darkly.

 

"I chose to be in a relationship with you."

 

"Yeah but-"

 

"Kent,” Jack stopped him firmly. He wasn’t going to let them both get into this conversation like this. 

 

Kent gave him a tight smile and rubbed the back on his neck, a gesture Jack had seen dozens of times before.

 

"We owe each other a lot of apologies," Jack offered, as a compromise.

 

"That's a good way to put it,” Kent said softly. “Maybe that’s a good way to start.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Kent exhaled slowly. “Yeah.” He stepped back onto the ice and tilted his head. “You coming?”

 

“What?”

 

“Come on, Jack. Next class isn’t for a half hour. Skate with me. Let’s talk.”

 

“I’m not even sure where to start,” Jack said honestly. 

 

An uncomfortable expression came over Kent’s face. “It’s okay if you change your mind. It’s- a lot, I know. Our friendship was -”

 

“No!” Jack said quickly, twisting to come to a stop in front of Kent. “Not that at all- it’s just- I want to start but I’m not sure where to start.”

 

Kent thought about this, with Jack skating backwards ahead of him. “Neither of us made it to our draft.”

 

Jack stayed quiet, wondering about the direction Kent was heading. 

 

"Did you feel it?" Kent asked curiously. 

 

“Feel what?" 

 

Kent looked almost embarrassed. “After my accident, when Richie told me about everything- I made the decision to withdrawal and it was - this is going to sound awful but- relief. It was a relief to realize I wasn’t going to be drafted. That pressure was just gone.” 

 

"I can't remember,” Jack said honestly. “The first couple weeks are kind of a blur.” 

 

"I felt it almost the second after the doctors had Richie tell me the risks,” Kent told him. “It was an out. Don't get me wrong, Jack- I love hockey- I get an ache when I watch games- but it wasn't worth the pain. Even this some weeks is too much for my head.” He gestured to the ice. 

 

"You said- in the article -" 

 

"Hey, I worked hard on that quote.” Kent grinned and it looked so real that Jack had to remind himself that he was on skates and not to fall over.

 

"It was a good quote, Kenny." 

 

"To be honest, I thought that I would have had more time to work on it.” Kent stretched his arms straight out as he skated, checking his balance. “Don't get me wrong, I knew someone would come looking for me once you decided to make headlines again- Richie still gets call every once in a while- but I figured it would be when you retired from the NHL and came out with a househusband and 2.5 kids. By then I thought people would have put two and two together about us." 

 

"A househusband?"

 

“Sure,” Kent shrugged. “Partner, husband. Whatever floats your boat.”

 

“I think…there was a little bit of relief. But maybe not about the draft. Just…about fixing-“ Jack gestured to himself. “I didn’t have to hide it anymore, I guess. I wasn’t allowed to.”

 

“You don’t have to hide it now. The amount of anxiety in teenagers trying to make the draft? It’s a ridiculous amount of pressure. You could be a good role model - I mean,” Kent stopped himself and backtracked. He let himself slowly come to a stop, just balancing on his skates. “If you ever wanted that. I mean, it’s about you first. You don’t owe anyone anything,” he said adamantly. 

 

“Nah, you’re right though. I know you are. Maybe in a few years.” Jack shrugged. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. He tugged on Kent’s sleeve as he passed by him again. Kent obediently started skating again. “I don’t like the idea of kids going through what I went through.” He watched as Kent skated easily beside him as though nothing had changed and they were still seventeen again, staying after practice to work by themselves. “Good role model, eh?”

 

“It’s important for kids to have good role models,” Kent told him seriously.

 

“Your- the job that you do when you’re not here- it’s with kids?”

 

Kent nodded. “LGBTQ homeless youth. There’s a group of shelters and outreach programs throughout Rhode Island. I manage the donations and some other stuff. It’s sort of small but they do really good work. They’re growing,” Kent said proudly.

 

“That’s great, really,” Jack stressed the last word. 

 

“I figured…” Kent smiled at Jack and it had the bite in it that felt so familiar. “If I wasn’t going to be able to play hockey- I was going to do everything else.”

 

——————

 

From Jack: Class this weekend?

 

From Kent: No, I've got a doctor's appointment this weekend.

 

From Jack: Is everything okay? 

 

From Jack: Can I ask that?

 

From Kent: Sure, you can ask. I still have to see my specialist twice a year. He's up in Boston.

 

From Jack: Do you need company?

 

From Kent: Richie is coming. He normally comes.

 

From Kent: Thank you though.

 

From Jack: We have a game against BC on Sunday. Will you guys still be there?

 

From Kent: Maybe next time, Jack.

 

Kent didn't want to leave it like that but he also didn't want to type out what he was thinking over text message. He had just turned down Jack twice. Trying to read Jack's reactions on text message was like when he first tried to figure him out at age sixteen. He pressed the call button.

 

"Kenny?" Jack sounded nervous. Kent was quick to put his mind at ease, making his tone as casual as possible.

 

"Hey, Jack. Do you have a minute?"

 

"I-yes."

 

"Do you really or-"

 

"No, I do."

 

"Okay," Kent said slowly. "I wanted to thank you for both of your offers. It's not that I don't appreciate them."

 

"No, I know. It's probably a lot. And it's not- my place. The first one, I mean. You have a routine, right?"

 

"Right." Kent didn’t say that Jack was already working himself into his routine by showing up to his classes and texting him every day. He remembered Jack well enough to know that he was probably thinking the same thing. "Also-" he blurted out and then stopped.

 

"Kent?"

 

He took a breath and continued his sentence. "I'm sort of wiped after the appointments. It's a lot testing my vision and stuff like that."

 

"Concussion tests," Jack said quietly.

 

"Essentially. I can barely see afterwards and all I want to do is sleep."

 

"You would sleep all the time if you could," Jack's teasing came easily and Kent was able to breathe out. 

 

“I’m not the one who fell asleep on the bench after middle exams, Zimms.”

 

——————

 

From Kent: /pictures/Kit/birdstare.jpg

 

From Jack: That's your cat?

 

From Kent: There's a bird outside and she keeps meowing at me to open the window.

 

From Jack: She's cute.

 

From Kent: Damn right.

 

——————

 

From Jack: Can I send you pictures of hockey stuff?

 

From Kent: Sure

 

From Kent: Thanks for asking.

 

From Jack: /pictures/Samwell/Bus.jpg

 

From Kent: Are you the only team member not asleep?

 

From Jack: Our manager Lardo is up too. The rink is a whole twenty minutes away. We’re not sure how they manage a nap just while we're on the highway.

 

From Kent: Good luck.

 

——————

 

From Jack: My teammate is trying to bribe me with pie so he doesn’t have to wake up for early morning skate.

 

From Kent: Has he met you?

 

From Jack: The pie is good. Skating is better.

 

From Kent: That’s so Jack Zimmermann. #Brand.

 

From Jack: It’s good to exercise in the mornings.

 

From Jack: That’s a Twitter thing, right? The pound sign?

 

From Kent: On weekends that you don’t have a roadtrip? I don’t know about exercising then.

 

From Kent: Yeah, Jack. It’s a “Twitter thing.”

 

From Jack: Our community service trip got cancelled and there was open ice time anyway.

 

From Kent: Community service trip?

 

From Jack: All the sports teams and clubs have to do a certain amount of community service hours each semester.

 

From Kent: Well, if you need them, my group could use a bunch of strong hockey players to move donation boxes into our new facility.

 

From Jack: Really?

 

From Kent: Really.

 

From Kent: If you want.

 

From Jack: I’ll ask our manager. Lardo might have something lined up already.

 

From Kent: Give her my number, if not. I’ll set something up.

 

——————

 

“They’re good guys?” Kent asked suddenly. It was the end of the phone call. Lardo seemed nice. She asked Kent questions about the project he hadn’t even thought would have been relevant. She also had a nice sense of dry sarcasm which Kent figured any non-athlete had to have when dealing with a bunch of hockey players on a daily basis. 

 

She didn’t answer for a few seconds but when she did, her tone managed to be warm and serious. “They’re good, I swear. Some of them are dumb as bricks but I wouldn't sign them up for this if I didn't think they'd behave. Jack definitely wouldn’t let them come around if they weren’t,” she added. 

 

“And they know they’re going to be -" _at an LGBTQ+ shelter_ , Kent didn’t say.

 

“We have a gay teammate. Jack mentioned him before to you right? I heard him talking to you about pies so that had to have been Bitty. Samwell is progressive," Lardo promised.

 

“Just checking,” Kent told her. He felt embarrassed. He hated that feeling. ‘ _You deserve to keep yourself safe,_ ’ he thought to himself in his therapist’s voice.

 

“I know. It’s okay. You have to check.” She sounded sincere. Kent decided that she was.

 

Kent exhaled. “Thanks. Let’s do this.”

 

——————

 

“New community service trip on Sunday, boys,” Lardo announced from her place standing on the middle of their bench in Faber. “We’re headed down to Providence to help the Providence Provides LGBTQ+ Group with setting up their new shelter.” 

 

“Really?” Bitty perked up. His forehead had a red mark on it from his helmet. He looked wiped from practice but his eyes were bright as he asked. 

 

“Yep, Jack’s friend set it up. He manages- something?” Lardo looked at Jack.

 

“He’s in charge of donation and resources?” Jack said, not confidently at all. He took his own helmet off and ran his fingers through hair.

 

“How do you know someone in Providence who does this?” Ransom looked from Jack and then back to Lardo.

 

Jack didn’t make eye contact with anyone from the team. He concentrated on taking his gloves off as he responded. “It’s actually uh- Kent. Kent Parson.”

 

“No kidding,” Holster said slowly. He caught Shitty’s eye and his teammate shook his head slightly. “Well, I’m glad you got in touch with him, man.”

 

The team slowly left the rink, Jack smiled at Lardo as he passed her on the way to the locker room. Only Bitty remained. He seemed- apprehensive. “Kent's excited," she told him. "Apparently they got a ton of press from a fundraiser they did so they're able to open a bunch of new shelters for homeless LGBTQ+ youth in the next twelve months. Jack told him that our last service trip had been cancelled and he said he could use some help.”

 

"Really?" Bitty asked again. "And he used to play hockey?"

 

Lardo shrugged. "Yep. This is what he does now."

 

"That's...great." Bitty looked like he wanted to say something else. Lardo leaned against the bench and waited. 

 

"I thought you'd like it."

 

"It's kind of really great," Bitty confessed excitedly. "Are all the guys going to be okay with it?" He blurted out.

 

Lardo just smiled. "They didn't seem to care just now. Kent asked the same thing though. I think he's a little nervous about it."

 

"I wouldn't blame him," Bitty said in a daze. "Not exactly a hockey player kind of place."

 

"Well, maybe he's trying to change that. Besides he's out and stuff. Last I heard, he’s got a boyfriend and everything.”

 

“And he used to play hockey?” Bitty checked again.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Do you know what his favorite kind of pie is?”

 

“We can find out."

 

——————

 

From Jack: Do you have a favorite type of pie?

 

From Kent: What the hell, Jack?

 

——————

 

“If this can’t get Jack to skip practice, I’m not sure anything can,” Kent complimented Bitty. He and Bitty were going through bags of donated clothing. Or at least, that’s what they were supposed to be doing. They were surrounded by black plastic garage bags- full of all different types of clothing that had been already been unloaded by the Samwell hockey team. Now they were taking a not-so-well-deserved break while the rest of the team moved donated bed frames, dressers, and desks into the rooms of the shelter. 

 

“I think nothing can- you’re right,” Bitty sighed. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”

 

Kent laughed and tapped his fork against Bitty’s. “That’s solid determination. I like it.”

 

“Hard at work?” A voice came from above them. 

 

Bitty froze at the sound of Lardo’s voice but Kent just let his eyes go wide and innocent. “Someone baked me pie. It would be rude for me not to eat it.” Jack, walking by with Shitty, a box carrying a bookshelf between them, snorted at Kent’s tone. 

 

“Keep walking, Zimms,” Kent called. 

 

“Lardo says you’re seeing someone?” Bitty asked once Kent had another mouthful of pie. Kent now couldn’t help but feel like the baked goods might have been a trap. He hadn't talked to Jack about Geoff. Mostly because there wasn't much to talk about. Also, he hadn't been sure how to bring it up to Jack- not without seeming, well, hopeful. Bitty didn’t seem overly interested. He just seemed interested. 

 

Kent thought about Bitty’s accent- how he was a bit smaller than the rest of the team. Lardo has said he was gay- but nothing about the rest of the team. He went with his gut feeling that Bitty was just asking because he never had a queer friend to ask before. 

 

“I was but- not anymore,” Kent mumbled around another bite of pie.

 

Bitty deflated a bit. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

 

”He was a little too old for me.” Kent watched Bitty’s face for a reaction but his surprise wasn’t judgmental, it was more- perhaps some longing? 

 

_Oh._

 

Kent kept going then, with a quick glance to the rest of the Samwell boys, all of them, including Jack, busy moving boxes of donated bed frames.

 

“And like- corporate? Very corporate. He had like- it's hard to explain. It was intimidating though. I need to find someone on my own level, I think, you know?" Kent wondered if it would be bad manners to lick his plate. Hockey players, sure, but Bitty seemed a bit too refined for that.

 

“I wish I did.” 

 

Giving himself a mental pat on the back for reading the situation correctly, Kent held out his plate for another piece of pie. 

 

"What about you? I hear Samwell is pretty good for queer students,” he said carefully. He didn’t think Jack was out but if his teammate needed a friend, Kent could do that. He knew what it was like to be on a hockey team full of straight guys. Granted, Bitty was out and his teammates seemed great- that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard. 

 

“Yo, Parse!” One of the d-men called over- interrupting them. Kent squinted, trying to remember his name. Nothing came to mind. “Do you want these put together too?" He asked.

 

"We can do that,” the kid next to him said. 

 

His friend snorted. ”I can do that. You can read me instructions."

 

The teammate put his hand to his chest in mock pain. ”Bro."

 

“So what's the deal with genders and therapy offered here?" The teammate Jack called ‘Shitty’ squished down between Kent and Bitty.  

 

"Uhhh..." Kent shot Bitty an apologetic look. He didn’t look upset but he didn’t look happy either. Kent mouthed ‘later’ at him.

 

"Right- no, sorry. Shitty.” He held out his hand. "One of my majors is Gender and Sexuality."

 

"Oh. Well, I can tell you what we're able to offer but one of my coworkers would know like- the real interesting stuff. I can have her email you, if you want?" Kent told him, taking another bite of pie. 

 

"Sure but tell me what you know? Please?"

 

Scratching his head, Kent tried to remember all the meetings he had sat in on for the last few weeks regarding their new facility. ”Right now, I know we can get partnerships with local practices who connect us with students in their final year of study who need experience."

 

"So they're not licensed?" Shitty asked. 

 

Kent shook his head. "It's more complicated than that. It's like a shadowing program?" He tried. "Honestly, Elaine would know better than me. She is the one who sets all that up."

 

"That's great," Bitty gushed. A smile was back on his face. He nudged Shitty over, giving himself more room. 

 

"It's hard. These kids- they deserve so much better but we're going to keep trying."

 

 

——————

 

“Hotlzy! Your mom is here!”

 

Holster looked up from his bowl of cereal. “I thought we were helping Kent again this weekend. With the kids though- not moving stuff. Not that I minded moving stuff just-”

 

“Family weekend, bro. Pretend like you didn’t forget,” Lardo patted the top of his head. “You’re going to make your mom move boxes?”

 

“No, I’m just saying- I got my weekends mixed up is all.” He looked up at Jack. “You’re not going down either then. Do you think Kent is doing okay running class by himself?” Jack had a hard time figuring out Holster’s expression but he seemed genuinely worried.

 

“I think Kent was handling his class just fine before a bunch of loud college hockey players decided that he needed help,” Jack told him idly. Bitty snorted. 

 

“He actually is going to let them play a real little scrimmage today,” Bitty told them, not looking from his where he was reading his text messages. He had been texting Kent about some rugby player, according to Lardo, who had given Jack a single raised eyebrow when he had asked what she thought Bitty and Kent texted about. Jack had chosen not to respond to her quizzical facial expression. 

 

“Really?” Jack asked, not bothering to hide his eagerness. “I bet Nancy scores.” His phone was on silent in his pocket. He didn’t want it to be but with his parents there with him for the weekend…

 

“Jack!” His mother’s voice had the power to calm down Jack instantly. Only a few other people in his life had that - including- Jack hugged his mom to stop himself from thinking about Kent. His father was right behind him. It felt good to see them again even though it had only been a few weeks.

 

Alicia turned a warm gaze on her son. “Did I hear that they were talking about Kent?” She asked inquisitively.

 

“Parson?” Bob asked, not holding back his curiosity either. 

 

“Uhhh…sorry, Jack,” Bitty said, confused looking like he absolutely wanted to run away from the situation he had accidentally just created. “I think I’m gonna go make sure my Mama didn’t get lost finding the Haus.”

 

“C’est d'accord.” Jack waved him off. “It’s no problem.”

 

“We read the article…” Alicia told him honestly. “We weren’t sure if you had seen it but it was very nice of him to say that about you.”

 

“I’m a little worried that they found him. He’s looking out for himself, right?” Bob asked Jack seriously.

 

“Oh, Bob, he sounded like he was doing great,” Alicia scolded him.

 

Bob shook his head. “The media is tricky.”

 

“He wasn’t expecting them to find him,” Jack admitted slowly. “But we went to find him right afterwards but he hasn’t mentioned anyone else contacting him.”

 

“You went to find him?” Alicia asked, her face a little too void of emotion.

 

“Oui, myself and a few teammates. I wanted to thank him,” Jack told his parents. “We’ve been talking.”

 

“He’s doing well.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Très bien,” Jack confirmed. “He’s working for a company that helps to foster and sponsor LGBTQ in Providence and on the weekend he teaches skating and hockey to enfants. The team has been filling their community service requirement by helping him.”

 

“I’ve been with this team. Are you sure it is a help?” Bob teased. 

 

“He’s only in Providence. You should invite him for dinner while we’re here!” Alicia suggested. Jack tried to read her body language before giving up and deciding it wasn’t important. Not right now anyway.

 

“I don’t think so, Maman.” Jack frowned. There was a lot going on between him and Kent. Reminding Kent of his dad’s legacy and his parents- not yet. “Maybe another time.”

 

——————

 

"My parents say hello," Jack said cautiously, after family weekend and his parents had gone back to Montreal, as he talked to Kent. He had tried texting Kent but he had gotten a phone call back with an apology (“Sorry, my head tonight. Even with my phone’s contrast turned all the way down-“ “It’s okay, Kenny.”)

 

"I know... Your dad called me yesterday to say hello."

 

"Oh." Jack wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wondered how his father had gotten Kent’s number but Bad Bob had ties to everyone in the league. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to get anything hockey-related if he really wanted it- not when he knew where to look. 

 

"Yeah, it wasn't awkward at all," Kent said sarcastically.

 

"I'm sorry,” Jack said miserably. Expanding him and Kent’s bubble to his team had worked out so well but he wasn’t ready for his parents to be involved in it. 

 

"Nah, it was nice. Just unexpected,” Kent promised. “Asked how I was- about my doctors. Weird, but good.”

 

“That’s…good, I guess.”

 

“Try not to think about it too much. That’s my plan,” Kent advised.

 

Jack smiled even though Kent couldn’t see it. “Tell me about your class yesterday? How did the scrimmage go?”

 

 

 

——————

 

“Epic Kegster TONIGHT!” Holster howled from center ice at the Providence Memorial ice rink.

 

“Whatever that was- it was not a real phrase, right?” Kent looked around the rink. There were only a few students and their parents left. Hopefully no one was paying attention to a bunch of college bros talking about - whatever that was.

 

”It's just a party, Kenny,” Jack explained, sitting next to him on the bench. “They throw them in the Haus a few times a year.”

 

“A frat party?” Kent raised an eyebrow. Memories of high school went through his mind- red plastic cups and loud music and sitting in Jack’s lap and - 

 

Jack lowered his voice. “I nurse a beer all night and watch Lardo sink ping pong balls into solo cups. They get pretty crazy on the first floor but the second is pretty calm. Well, minus whatever Shitty makes in the tub.” 

 

Kent shook his head but he seemed to be somewhat less tense at Jack’s explanation. ”You've gone full frat boy on me, Zimms,” he joked lightly, letting their shoulders bump together.

 

“You should drive up for it.” Kent looked at him but Jack was looking at the ice. Typical Zimmermann.  

 

"Jack, I'm not cleared to drive," Kent said quietly, as though Jack is the one with the head injury. "I haven’t been in a while. I take the bus or walk everywhere. I bought my house in this part of the city for that reason. It's close to everything." 

 

That got Jack’s attention. ”That wasn’t a no,” he pointed out. “I can come get you?“ He asked hopefully. 

 

“It's an hour drive, Jack-“ 

 

“Forty-five minutes,” Jack corrected him without thinking.

 

“You’ll have to go there after practices and then come back. I’ve got that meeting this afternoon,” Kent reminded him.

 

“I don’t mind,” Jack insisted.

 

“Don’t you need to help your team set-up?”

 

“Kent, it’s a frat party. If anything, they need me out of the way.” Kent laughed at that. Jack leaned in closer. “I’d like for you to come but if you really don’t want to- that’s okay,” he promised. “I’ll stop asking.”

 

Kent was quiet for another few seconds, eyes tracking Ransom and Holster trying to spin one another on the ice. “Let me know when you’re picking me up. I’ll be ready.”

 

——————

 

“Lardo, can I borrow your car? I’ll fill up the gas.”

 

Lardo looked over her shoulder. Jack had his hand hovering over the keys she had dropped on couch armrest. She winced as she heard another thud come from the basement of the house where Shitty was directing the frogs on how to get the ping-pong table up the stairs. “Only if I can come with you.”

 

‘You don’t want to…”

 

“Manage them setting up?” Lardo shook her head. “Nah, more of a challenge this way if I come into the tournament blind.”

 

“Blind to the location of the table?”

 

“You play hockey, Jack. It’s all about the lighting and angles.” Jack wasn’t sure if she was joking. It didn’t sound like a joke. “Come on. Are we driving somewhere or what?”

 

“Providence. Again,” he said apologetically, even though he wasn’t sorry. 

 

“What?”

 

“Kent can’t drive,” Jack said, with as little expression in his tone as possible. “I said I’d go get him for the party.” 

 

“Got it,” Lardo said right away. It seemed like she wanted to say something else but Jack was grateful that she decided against it. “All right. Holtzy!” She called up the stairs, past Jack. “You need anything? Jack and I are headed out to run a few errands.”

 

“Always use more cups. Bits- you need anything from the store?”

 

A faint “I’m good!” came from the vicinity of the kitchen. 

 

She grabbed her keys from underneath Jack’s hand. “Gotta be quicker in the NHL, Jack. Let’s roll.”

 

——————

 

Jack had probably been thinking too much about Kent’s house. Sometimes Kent would sent pictures of meals he made or his cat but that didn’t really give Jack any idea of what to expect. He wanted to know if Kent had dimmer switches for his lights or if he just shut them off when his head was hurting. When did he learn how to cook that he actually used a full kitchen? Did he still fall asleep on the couch after staying up past eleven?

 

It was small, just one bedroom on the second floor along with a tiny full bathroom. The downstairs was cozy- Kent’s furniture was all thick and comfortable- a grey and purple blanket that Jack recognized from juniors was over the back of the couch. His kitchen had a large window that looked into his backyard which was, as Kent had put it himself, “a work in progress.” His cat, Kit, was perched on that windowsill, looking out at the backyard with disdain as though she very much agreed with Kent’s description.

 

“Who is this princess?” Lardo cooed. She stuck her fingers out and the cat tentatively bunted against them.

 

“That’s Kit,” Kent said happily, grinning at his cat.

 

“Kit?” Lardo asked. 

 

“Kit…” Kent took a deep breath and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Kit Purrson. Her name is Kit Purrson.”

 

Lardo blinked at him and her face split into a huge grin. “You’re shitting me?”

 

“I’m really not.”

 

“Oh god, dude, I love it! I loved that you named her that. Role model status.” 

 

“It’s very you,” Jack teased and felt rewarded when Kent rolled his eyes.

 

“So are you ready for tonight?” Lardo asked. 

 

“I am not,” Kent said honestly with a shrug. 

 

"You can always go hide in the upstairs rooms if it's too much. We always keep them blocked off for the most part.” 

 

"The noise isn't the issue really- it's mostly lights-" 

 

"I'll tell Holtzy to kill the strobes." Lardo smirked.

 

Kent looked mildly alarmed at that. “Strobes?”

 

“She’s kidding,” Jack slid in. “DIdn’t you attend any parties in University of Rhode Island?” 

 

“Not really,” Kent said tightly. “The non-profit management school was pretty low-key.” Jack moved closer, letting their shoulders touch.

 

“It’s okay. It’s the downstairs you’ve got to worry about,” Lardo assured him again. “Upstairs and on the balcony is normally super chill. We’ll have a fire pit outside too.”

 

“Is that legal?” Jack asked her suspiciously.

 

Lardo shrugged. “Is any of this legal?” 

 

“God, we’re going to get another citation,” Jack groaned, his hands over his face.

 

“Just one? Aim bigger, Jack.” She turned towards Kent again. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

 

“Yes?” Kent asked. He looked down. It was just his dark jeans with another button-down shirt. He had left it open and the shirt underneath was just a t-shirt that had a faded RI on it. “I don’t play hockey anymore so I’m not sure if that helps or hurts my cases for pulling certain outfits.”

 

“Hockey thighs,” Lardo said knowingly. “Nothing wrong with a plaid button-down or those jeans.”

 

——————

 

“Hey, bro- that econ paper was killer wasn’t it?”

 

Kent lifted his water bottle to his lips but that didn’t stop his smile. He’s not sure the guy noticed anyway. The other party-goer was in a Samwell baseball hoodie and shorts with black socks and sandals. _Oof._ “Tell me about it, bro. I’m lucky if I pulled a B,” he said in all seriousness. A snort came from behind him. 

 

“Excuse us,” Ransom used Kent’s shoulders to steer him away. Kent didn’t bother holding in his giggles. 

 

“Man, you should have let me keep on him. I would have loved to know all about the econ class I’m supposedly in.”

 

Ransom shook his head. Kent wasn’t even sure where the two of them were headed. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there.” 

 

Kent waved his water bottle around, gesturing to the masses. “You’re a bunch of college kids, I don’t really want to go near any of you.” 

 

Ransom scoffed. “He’s maybe a year younger than you. Two at most.” 

 

“Practically a baby,” Kent joked. 

 

——————

 

“You are an adequate partner.”

 

“That’s good, right?” Kent looked from Lardo to Jack. “That’s high praise?”

 

“The highest,” Jack nodded solemnly. 

 

“Wait - what?” Kent stood absolutely still as Lardo burped in his face. “Okay then,” he said to no one and leaned against the ping-pong table.

 

Holster clapped him on the shoulder. “A show of respect, brah.”

 

“Is there a difference between bro and brah?” Kent asked. No one answered him but Jack cracked a smile so that was a good enough response for him.

 

——————

 

“How are you doing?” Jack leaned in close to ask even though it wasn’t that loud. Kent sighed. In a judgement call that was neither good nor bad, he let his head come down to rest on Jack’s shoulder.

 

“I’m doing good so far.” He felt Jack’s hand in his hair for the shortest second before it disappeared again.

 

——————

 

Kent woke up in a bed that definitely was not his. However, it also was not Jack’s, which he admitted was a relief. He wasn’t- they weren’t - Judging by the photographs thumbtacked to the wall, Kent was willing to bet that this was Shitty’s bed. 

 

The door to the room opened slowly and Kent fell back on the bed, quietly laughing at the sight. It was a comfort to know that Jack’s hair was still a terrible mess when he first woke up in the morning. 

 

“Oh, good, you’re up. Bitty’s making brunch.” Jack’s warm smile was almost too much for Kent this early. He closed his eyes and stretched, pushing against the wall.

 

“Does Bitty want a job as a full-time chef?” He murmured, not moving from his spot against the pillow. “Because I don’t have the money but I’ll find a way.”

 

Jack snorted. “Did you sleep okay?” He asked, coming into the room and closing the door behind him.

 

“I think the more important question is did Shitty sleep okay?” Kent asked, a little embarrassed. “I would have slept on the floor, you know.

 

“Yeah, he’s fine. He crashed in the Reading Room.”

 

Kent blinked. “The what?” This did not seem to be a frat house that would have a room for studying.

 

“That’s uhh…it’s part of the roof.” Jack gestured to the window. Okay that made more sense. 

 

“He slept on the roof?”

 

“It’s…fine, I swear.” Jack shook his head. “This happens a lot. Come on, breakfast and -”

 

“Then I have to get home-“

 

“Because of Kit.” Jack smiled at him again. “I know, don’t worry.”

 

This time, Kent let himself smile. Though, not directly at Jack, but at his own lap instead. He’d work on the angle in the future. “Lead the way to brunch then.”

 

——————

 

“There’s a picture of us on Bitty’s Twitter,” Kent spoke up about twenty minutes into the ride back to Providence. He had taken the opportunity to thumb through his phone.

 

“You have a Twitter?” Jack looked like he wanted to chirp him but he didn’t. He waited.

 

“Yeah,” Kent said distractedly. “It’s private though. Bitty and I exchanged handles a few weeks back though.”

 

“He was taking a lot of selfies last night,” Jack observed.

 

“I’m holding a water bottle but you’re holding a drink.”

 

Jack’s mouth formed a silent O. He looked over at the passenger seat. “I’m allowed to drink, Kenny. It’s not going to hurt anything.”

 

“What about me being here?” Kent asked quietly. 

 

“That’s okay too.” Jack paused. “Unless you don’t think so.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

"We weren't doing anything wrong, Kenny,” Jack promised. “Bitty can delete it if you really want him to.” 

 

“You know what I mean, Jack.”

 

Kent refused to be in the closet. It wasn’t worth it to his mental health. If another reporter came to find him and did just the slightest more bit of research, they’d find out immediately. It’s not a big deal outside the NHL. But…he doesn't want to fuck things up for Jack. 

 

“I don’t want to fuck anything up for you,” he said out loud, more serious than he’s been since he and Jack’s fight during their first time teaching mite together. It seemed like ages ago. “I didn’t leave behind the good and bad of hockey just to go back to the bad with none of the perks of playing,” he added. 

 

“What are you talking about, Kenny?” Jack sounded confused which- fair. He was still pretty tired and Kent had just rambled a bit without a lot of context but-

 

“I’m talking about this!” Kent gestured between the two of them. He wasn’t angry- just frustrated and confused. He and Jack had been circling around this for weeks now- ever since Jack had found him. “I don’t know what you want from me. It’s been almost five months of you and your team showing up at the rink and you texting me and I still don’t know what you want from me,” he told Jack. “I don’t even know what you want from you. You’re about to start a professional hockey career but you come here all the time and you text me every day like I-“ Kent stopped himself from saying the last word but Jack heard it pretty clearly. _‘Like I matter.’_

 

“Kenny…”

 

Kent shook his head. “People are going to talk, Jack. They’re not idiots…” He took a breath. “And if people talk, then the teams looking at you are going to talk too.”

 

“They already are,” Jack spoke up.

 

“What?” Kent felt cold. His fingers curled tightly around the seatbelt strap that was tight around his waist.

 

“I’m already talking about it with them.” He spared a glance at Kent. “About- me, I mean. You’re right, you know? About everything- sacrificing parts of myself for hockey. I don’t think I want it to be that way for me. I don’t think I can let it be that way for me but there’s an awful lot to get in place, you know?”

 

“Jack…you’re seriously thinking about-“

 

“You said the kids needed role models right?” Jack looked over again and Kent had his face buried in his hands. “Kenny?” He asked, alarmed. Kent didn’t see but he felt the car pulling over to the side of the road. He was too busy breathing into his hands and wishing he had a paper bag to notice anything else. Which is why he flinched when he felt Jack’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him across the emergency break for a tight hug.

 

“Kenny,” Jack said for the third time in as many minutes. “You’re right about role models but it’s also my choice. I’m not going to come out and say anything but I’m not going to hide either. It’s good and healthy to be prepared for the inevitable.” He sounded like he was quoting someone else. _Good_ , Kent thought. 

 

“Yeah, that’s…good,” Kent said in a daze, pulling back from Jack. That was good for Jack. But where did that leave- “I don’t want this to be because of me again,” he said suddenly. One of his hands was still tightly fisted in the fabric of Jack’s hoodie.

 

Shocked, Jack quickly regained his footing. “My OD wasn’t because of you, Kenny,” he said, slowly and carefully. 

 

Kent shook his head. “It wasn’t not because of me either,” he pointed out. 

 

Jack wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Things are different now,” he said confidently.

 

“ _How_ different?”

 

“You’re right…I’m not being fair. About us.” He thought back to what Kent had just said- about their friendship. “I know that. I do,” he swore.

 

Kent took his hands off of Jack’s Samwell hoodie and brought them back to his side, using a thumb to rub against the seatbelt strap. He was pretty sure he knew what Jack was saying. “I had you taken away from me once, Jack. I’m not sure I could stand a second time. What we had- it wasn’t healthy.” 

 

“It wasn’t,” Jack agreed.

 

“We were both at fault - I mean, we were dumb kids. Now we’re just…” Kent sighed.

 

“Dumb adults,” Jack helpfully supplied. 

 

Kent snorted and his head fell back onto the passenger headrest. “Exactly.”

 

“We’ve got time.” Jack shrugged and pulled Kent close to him again. Kent went willingly, though he still wasn’t quite sure why or if it was a good idea. “You know I’m glad you came to the party. That you let me pick you up and that you came.”

 

Kent sighed into Jack’s shoulder. “Me too.” He looked over at the cars passing them by. “We’re going to talk about this again, you know? Maybe when you’re not driving though.”

 

“Kenny, I have a feeling that we’re going to talk about this a lot. I hear that’s a key in any healthy relationships,” Jack’s voice and Kent’s heart both stuttered over the word ‘relationship.’ Kent snorted again, this time into Jack’s shoulder. 

 

“Yeah?” Kent pulled back and let himself grin. This time, it was fully directed towards Jack. 

 

“Yeah,” Jack promised. 

 

 

 

 

**——————**

**2017**

**——————**

 

@PlayersTribune: Living legends & all that entails- this week with contributor- Falcons forward Jack Zimmermann: 

Retweeted by @omgcheckplease, @KVParson, @SamwellU, and more

 

——————

 

_Trying to make the NHL is hard enough. Just try to think about it- you start, at the latest, age eleven or twelve. Most of us start skating before we even can walk properly. You skate every day, switch teams a dozen times, move away from home barely into your teens- all leading up to a draft that happens at age 18. The rest of your classmates are choosing how they’re going to spend the rest of their lives but you chose years prior. It is an exhausting combination of hard work, sweat, blood, and ice._

 

_Try to picture it._

 

_Now add that your dad is a hockey legend. Each time your name comes out of a reporter’s mouth, it’s soon followed by his name._

 

_Now add that you’re gay in a sport where no one is out yet. You hear ‘faggot’ at least six times a day from age nine onwards. It went from “God, what if they find out?” to “Oh, we’re still using that word? Really?”_

 

_I guarantee that a game hasn’t gone by without a commentator mentioning that I should have gone first in the 2009 draft. I can tell you with all honesty that if I had attended that draft, I wouldn’t be here today. I wouldn’t have lasted through my first season in the NHL. I wouldn’t be writing this article while listening to my friends arguing over reality television shows in our den. People handle various kinds of stress and anxiety in different ways and I handled it in the wrong way. I wanted to go first in the draft but what I needed was help- mental help, not physical. I learned that hockey can't fix everything, no matter how much I want it to._

 

_Kent Parson and I didn’t make the 2009 draft for two very different reasons. He likes to tell me that it was similar in that we were both in rehab. I’m still not sure that counts. The stress I felt in 2009 still weighs on my shoulders to this day. I still work hard, people still compare me to my father, and the amount of slurs I hear on the ice would have destroyed my eighteen year old self._

 

_So, for all the reports asking, yes, I still feel stress and anxiety every day. Anxiety isn't something that goes away and in hockey, stress is part of the game. It’s a little unfair that hockey manages to be both my relief and my stress on any given day. But I also have a support system that I didn’t want to acknowledge when I was eighteen. Yes, I’ve got a lot to live up to but it was my choice and I’m doing it on my terms. I’m not hiding whether it's mental illness or my sexuality._

 

_My boyfriend picked us first in his bracket. That’s a pretty high honor considering he didn’t even have us making the playoffs in the first place. Back in September, he said some pretty ruthless things about our defense. He wasn’t wrong though- and he’d know, considering he played with three of our d-men when we were all in juniors together. Kent has been teaching me about life and hockey since we were sixteen years old but I only just started listening. When he was 18, he was smart enough to do what most guys twice his age (and I) can't do- stop._

 

_When I was asked to write this article, I wasn't sure what it was going to be about. Living up to a living legend? Being an out athlete? My overdose? So I decided to talk about what links those together- anxiety and stress. My best advice to anyone, at any age dealing with this is to find a support system, whether it's family, friends, or professional help- and get it out in the open._

 

_If you don't know when to stop, then hopefully someone else will be able to help you._

**Author's Note:**

> There are 5 deleted scenes that didn’t quite fit in with the pacing so I’m going to try to post them over the rest of the 34 Days Challenge, when I get a chance. For the most part, they’re just pretty fluffy & indulgent


End file.
